


The Eyes Told

by Durinsbride



Series: All of You [1]
Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Abandoned Work - Unfinished and Discontinued, Established Relationship, F/M, Fluff and Angst, Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-06-19
Updated: 2014-06-19
Packaged: 2018-02-05 07:26:17
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,683
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1810201
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Durinsbride/pseuds/Durinsbride
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Good thing she’s sleeping, that she doesn’t have any idea that he’s staring at her right now like some lovesick little kid creaming his pants in the throes of his first crush.  That he’s mooning over the thought of her eyes alone—just her eyes…</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Eyes Told

~The Eyes Told~

“True love doesn't need proof.  
The eyes told what heart felt.”  
-Toba Beta

Summary: Good thing she’s sleeping, that she doesn’t have any idea that he’s staring at her right now like some lovesick little kid creaming his pants in the throes of his first crush. That he’s mooning over the thought of her eyes alone—just her eyes…

 

\- -

Guys almost always fall asleep after sex; it’s a well-known fact.

Well, guess they didn’t know anything about girls like Clarke, or guys like him, for that matter. 30 seconds after she comes (and with him, she always comes hard, _and_ more than once, you better believe) her eyelids are drooping and her voice goes hazy. Within a minute she’s pretty much checked out from the land of the living.

Him, on the other hand, he’s never more awake, more alive, than he is after sex, especially after sex with Clarke. He usually watches her sleep for a long while before nodding off himself, the princess tucked under his chin and their arms and legs wound around each other like they were magnetized.

But now he’s lying on his side, head propped on his elbow, looking down at her softened, unlined face as she sleeps, mapping the topography of her face with his blunt fingers. Over and over again, they trace her jaw, linger at the soft, silky skin just under her chin—it’s so absurdly soft he can’t help it—then outline the lush bow of her kiss swollen lips, the rise of her cheekbones—still pink from orgasm—before they rise to brush along the graceful arc of her eyebrows. First one, then the other. 

The perfect frame for her beautiful, beautiful eyes.

Before he can stop himself, he lets out a long, dreamy sigh just thinking about it. 

_God. You’re so **whipped,** man. _

Good thing she’s sleeping, that she doesn’t have any idea that he’s staring at her right now like some lovesick little kid creaming his pants in the throes of his first crush. That he’s mooning over the thought of her eyes alone—just her eyes, for fuck’s sake. But they are amazing. When he looks into her eyes he can see a world of colors: deep, oceanic blue and smoky jade, sleepy grey and deep black. Sometimes, when she’s angry with him (which is quite a lot, actually, nearly a daily occurrence) they spark like flint, and he swears he can feel their heat when they land on him. Burned raw from her gaze alone. She looks so sexy like that, when she’s blazing and bitchy and tracking him with her eyes like she wants to pounce on him and tear him apart—

And now he heaves another sigh—this one different from the first, because something like a purr is building in his chest at the thought of her eyes and how they look when she wants him, when she really wants to fuck him—she looks like she’s going to eat him alive and spit out the bones from her bloodied teeth. Hot _damn_ —she looks at him like she’s starving and he’s a banquet on legs.

“Fuck,” he whispers, closing his eyes for a minute to try and clear his mind, because the girl needs to sleep. But it doesn’t work, this little act of self-denial. He can still see it: the unforgettable sight of her eyes wanting, needing, and begging for what only he can give her.

His pulse is racing and he swallows hard, hips shifting restlessly against her. This is…this is selfish of him. Girl needs to sleep. They did it twice already. Twice was _plenty_ …

 _Third time’s the charm_ his cock is happy to remind him. 

_Yeah,_ he readily (perhaps too readily) agrees. _And good things come in threes. Like the sun, the moon and the stars—like me, Clarke and fucking._

With only a little niggle of guilt, he shifts his body until he’s lying over her, nudging apart her legs with his knee to settle his hips between the cradle of her thighs, because right now he needs to feel her welcoming heat flush against him, and he groans when he rests his full weight against her, the hard edge of his cock aligned with her slit. Oh. Shit. She’s still hot and slick from earlier. He bites his lip to stifle another, louder groan.

“Clarke…” he calls out gently, if a bit hoarsely, so as not to startle her awake. “Clarke…wake up…wake up, Princess…”

God, she feels so good. So _damn_ good. His hips move of their own accord, and they begin to rock against her in slow, circular thrusts. He can feel his hardness nudging the lips of her pussy apart, can feel the head of his cock brushing against her entrance. Damn…

“Clarke,” he calls again, helplessly, pleadingly. “Baby wake up.”

He looks up at her face, at her still closed eyes, and her face slackened by sleep. But there’s a new tension to the curve of her brow; she’s waking up, and she’s starting to feel it too, the want. Her puckered mouth is opened in a small _oh_ of awareness, her breath beginning to stutter and gust along with his. But her eyes, her eyes are still closed, and he thinks he will die if she doesn’t open them. Because now he needs to see them. He has to see them looking back at him.

“ _Bellamy_ …” she answers, his name born on a heavy sigh, her limbs loosening and opening up around him. Her arms reach out for him, finding his forearms and sliding upwards until they lock around his neck, drawing him closer. Her legs open wider, skating over the curve of his hips until they meet behind his back, her ankles locking together in a possessive grip. And she’s moving too, her hips rocking in counterpoint against him, her skin heating against his. She’s definitely awake now, but her eyes are still closed. _Still sleepy, Princess?_

“Bellamy…” she repeats, sounding a trifle annoyed. Really? “I _was_ sleeping.”

“Sleep when you’re old,” his voice cracks from the tightness in his throat; his mouth is dry and his mind is in a haze. He can’t tear his eyes away from her face. He can’t think of anything, anything but her and her beautiful—

“I wanna fuck.”

She snorts. “ _Big_ surprise.”

But she whimpers when he changes the angle and speed of his teasing thrusts, until finally he’s had enough; he finds her entrance and slips easily, smoothly inside of her. Her whimper converts to a moan, echoed by his.

“Open your eyes—“ he needs to see her looking back at him. Needs to see her wanting him.

And finally, finally she does. Her lids part and she looks up at him, her eyes cloudy from sleep but clear and steady as always, a deep, stormy blue. He feels a punch in the gut the moment her gaze meets his, and he feels like everything’s finally right with the world.

Because there it is, what he desperately needs to see— _her_ wanting _him_. But for the first time, in the midst of her tight, slick heat and the brace of her silky thighs around his hips, he notices something else. There is desire in her eyes, yes, he can see it, but behind that familiar heat there is something more, something deeper than just the desire of her body for his. He’s too afraid to fully acknowledge it or name it, but he can suddenly see it there now. And an instant later he knows it’s something he never wants to lose, something he wants to see in her eyes until the day he dies, until he can see her no more.

He lifts her right leg higher until her ankle hooks over his shoulder, angling his hips a little lower, pushing a little deeper.

“Oh god…Bellamy…” Clarke’s hands are digging into his back; he can feel the bite of her nails, scoring him, marking him. Sweet pain.

“I love…” he’s trying to speak through the blissful fire racing through his blood, the impossible coil of pleasure tightening in his gut with every stroke, every thrust home. “I _love_ …” he repeats, and when his own words penetrate his ears his heart almost stops. Had he just said what he thought he said? Did he really?

“W-what,” Clarke asks, tugging at his hair, gasping as she moves with him. She looks dazed, maybe she hadn’t really heard what he’d said. She confirmed it in the next moment. “What are you—oh _GOD_ —s-saying?”

“I love your eyes!” His says instead, his voice horse, near unrecognizable in the throes of his pleasure, and he struggled to meet her eyes. But now her head was thrown back and her eyes were closed. She was lost in sensation, too close to orgasm.

But he did. He loved her eyes, and he…needed her to know that he…

The words lay trapped in his throat. So he did the only thing he could do, in that moment. He put the words in his eyes. He let them tell her what he couldn’t say. He gripped her hair in his hand and brought her face closer to his. “Open your eyes, Clarke, “ he commanded, waiting for her to look at him.

When she opened her eyes and met his gaze she gasped. Time seemed to stand still and they gazed at each other for one long, endless moment. Did she see it? What he was trying to say to her? What he couldn’t say?

“Bell…b—“ Then she fell over the edge, her orgasm crashing down on her in a sudden, fierce wave, and watching her, he soon followed.

A little while later, she was still holding him, her arms wound around his broad shoulders as she lay gentle kisses against his jaw, the hollow of his throat.

Her mouth paused at the shell of his ear, and he shivered from the heat of her breath.

“I love your eyes too, Bellamy,” she whispered.

\- -

**Author's Note:**

> Note:  
> My humble, humble attempt at Bellarke fiction. I know it sucks, so please take it as it is, a little smuffy therapy to tide me—all of us—over for the long haul until the Fall premiere, whenever the hell that will be. I'm thinking about continuing this is a little series with other body parts and/or sentiments. Let me know if you're interested. Thanks!


End file.
